


Pock, Line, and Sinker

by houliheller



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, F/M, Fluff, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houliheller/pseuds/houliheller
Summary: Porco worries that she’s starting to do it on purpose.
Relationships: Porco Galliard/Pieck
Comments: 12
Kudos: 138





	Pock, Line, and Sinker

“Gah!”

This again? This animalistic reenactment that she was so intent of keeping up at all the wrong times and in all the wrong places?

“Oh.” And the soft, innocent tone that she gives him makes it even worse. “Hi, Pock.”

The moniker is bad enough in isolation, bad enough when she’s standing and when she’s not on all fours with her... on all fours like that!

“Can you do this someplace else?” Porco has only just walked into the dormitory, and he needed to _rest_ , not put up with this.

“You want me to crawl around outside?”

Porco pauses, not because he has to reconsider his answer, but because he hesitates under the blatancy of it. “...yes!”

“But the floor in here’s clean.” Pieck leans forward in her position, and her arms shift to lying flat as her hair brushes against the floor, and she tilts her head to face him. “And no-one can see me.”

“I can!”

Pieck only simpers, Porco swears smugly, and she shrugs as she tucks herself into her arms. “I don’t mind.”

Good. Well, it was good to know that Pieck was content. “Get off the floor.”

She mews. “Nope.”

“Can’t you just walk around? Normally?”

“I told you-”

“That you’re used to all fours because of your titan.” Porco has to avert his gaze to the sun-washed view of the horizon through the window. “And yet, you walk around in public perfectly fine.”

“I can’t do this in public, Pock.” He could tell. “It helps me relax.”

“Can you add ‘being around me’ to the list, then, please?” He tries to leave it at that, and strides past Pieck and towards his bed.

But he hears the soft brush of Pieck’s hair as she turns her head about to follow him, and supposes it isn’t over. “What, helping me relax?”

“No.” He falls backwards onto the bed, not serving her the favour of a glance, and then brings a leg up to undo its boot. “Not doing _that_ …” He grunts as he tears the lace loose with a lick of friction burn across his finger. “...around me.”

“You don’t like it?”

Her phrasing hits him sideways, enough to make reality in front of him flicker, and the hands that had begun to pull the loosened boot free freeze. “What…” Pieck’s lips curl in another grating smile, one that cracks Porco from his stasis. “No.” He sighs, and yanks the boot free with pent-up force. “I don’t.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“-and when I put my glasses on, the man shit himself! I could hear it, I swear!” Another laugh rings out through the room, the hearty sort that’s inflected with rigorous knowing. “‘Warchief Zeke!’ he said - beats me how he didn’t recognise me without my damn spectacles.” He flops back in his seat, story spent in its glory. “What do you think of that, eh, Reiner?”

“Brilliant, really.”

“Ah.” Zeke sighs through his speech, smirking at the firmly built warrior that sits stern in his seat with his arms crossed low. “As lively as ever, Braun.” He scratches through his beard. “Good thing you don’t have enough time left for a wife.” His gaze jumps. “What about you, Galliard? What’s new with the newbie?”

Porco matches Zeke’s gaze with his own. “I’m not a newbie.”

“It’s relative.” Pieck lies across the same couch that Porco sits upon, her legs infringing onto his lap as she rests her head to the armrest at the other side, cheek to her layered arms and hair messed about.

There are other things to assess about her position, things lower down, but he knows not to try it.

“She’s right.” Zeke waves a hand at Pieck. “You‘ve got a whole lot more time left than the rest of us - maybe even enough for a wife yourself.” He scratches at his beard once more. “Any ideas?”

Porco looks at the legs and shoes that splay across his lap, which force him to awkwardly stash his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and he has an idea. “Not this.”

Zeke cheers a light laugh. ”You hear that, Pieck?”

She simply hums hazily in response.

“Hm.” Zeke’s vigour slowly settles. “You’re a lively bunch today. The warrior program certainly breeds socialites, doesn’t it?”

There’s a confirmatory, convenient lack of a follow-up to his jab.

“Porco’s taken, anyway.” And Reiner provides a different topic instead.

Zeke perks up at the warrior’s interjection. “Huh?” He drags his sounding of interest out. “Really?”

Reiner hums, and he matches the leer from Porco with an amused one of his own.

“Who’s the lucky one then, Galliard?”

Porco swallows. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

He hears Pieck turn her head about too, and the pressure starts to mount and his cheeks start to tinge hotter.

“Come on, we’re all in confidence.” Zeke turns to Reiner. “I suppose you know who it is?”

“Aye.” Reiner turns to Zeke, smirk alongside. “Can’t you tell, too?”

Zeke turns back to Porco, his brow folded under genuine perplexion, something foreign for him, but after a few moments of silent deliberation, a rich laugh tears from his chest and the heat to Porco’s cheeks doubles.

“Ha!” He leans back in his chair, and adjusts his glasses at the two of them. “Very good, Reiner. Very good point.”

Porco finds himself seething. “ _What_?”

Zeke points now, a smirk of his own to his lips. “You know, you wouldn’t be able to marry as far as Liberio’s walls stretch if I had a photo of that.”

“What?” Porco takes special attention to Zeke’s pointing, scrambling to figure their little joke out, but when he remembers the legs across his lap and the girl that’s now turned away, it comes crashing down on him.

Pieck.

He is just a slight angry under the embarrassment, and a hand rips from his jacket pocket to grip Pieck’s additions to his seating and throw them off. “Get your legs off me.” Reiner snorts, and Porco feels his frustration coil as Pieck shifts herself away from his rough handling.

“Ow-!” She pulls herself up the couch, and turns about as she tucks her legs towards herself and away from him. “You could be a bit more gentle about it.”

“Oi… don’t you injure her, Galliard.” The point returns. “She’s more valuable than you know.”

Porco huffs, and his hand returns to the depth of his pocket despite his now freed position. “I appreciate the consideration.”

“Ah, you’re strong enough to look after yourself.” Zeke flattens his lips. “Military jacket and all - you’re a warrior.”

Reiner laughs again, and Porco can’t seem to catch a breather to let the pink to his face die down. “It’s just a jacket.” His frustration pushes him onto the offensive. “And I don’t know why you’re laughing, ‘Uncle Reiner’.”

“Hey?” The amusement dies, and Reiner turns to a curious glare. “Say that again?”

His stashed hands pull his jacket tighter inwards. “Playing grown-up with the cadets.”

“Tch.” Reiner snarls back. “You’re jealous that the kids like me more.”

“Because you’re related to Gabi - it’s nepotism.”

“That’s a big word, Pock.”

Porco has little time to glare at Pieck as well, and he can’t afford to at Zeke as he laughs again.

“They like your name, I’ll give you that.” He’s smiling now. “Always makes them laugh.”

Porco doesn’t need this, and it’s going nowhere regardless. “Well, fortunately...” He sighs, and tucks his hands further into his pockets. “...I don’t need the approval of children.”

“Ah!” The point is back. “There it is - the warrior spirit, the anti-socialite.” And now Zeke’s smiling. “Our Porco.”

Porco tempers his irritation, and holds back from eliciting a response, thinking Zeke’s monologue is conclusive enough, and soon enough the heat is off of him with the warchief back to babbling through another story to an obliged Reiner.

He doesn’t bother to look to his side, but when her shoes brush against the fabric seat of the couch and they encroach their way back onto his lap, he doesn’t have the heart to push them off again and all he can give her is an implicit glance.

And now she’s smiling too.

* * *

“I dropped something-”

“You haven’t dropped something!” Porco throws a hand at her in brash gesture. “You’re just coming up with a reason to crawl around!”

“Pock…” Pieck looks at him, somewhat endearingly. He wishes she wouldn’t. “...keep your voice down; Reiner’s trying to sleep.”

“I don’t…” He runs a hand through his hair, nerves racked and patience expended. “Let me find it.”

Pieck looks underneath the bedside cabinet again, which curves her back downwards and pushes her… her… “I can do it myself.”

This was ridiculous. He _had_ been reading, at his desk and under the softness of the sunlight; he _had_ been content. But clearly Pieck had gotten bored at some point and started crawling around to entertain herself, searching underneath the cabinet for ‘something’ she had ‘dropped’.

Well, Porco hadn’t heard _anything_ drop, and he couldn’t concentrate on his book with her like… _that_.

“There’s nothing under there!”

“There is.” Pieck pushes her hand underneath, which scratches against the coarse wooden base of the furniture piece. “It’s probably at the back.”

“What did you drop?” Porco feels like kicking the cabinet over and pulling out whatever dust-ridden piece of her imagination she had dropped underneath himself. “Tell me.”

“A hairpin.”

“A _hairpin_?” Grief. “You always have your hair down!”

“It’s a gift from my grandfather!”

“What are you two doing?” Now Reiner’s turned around in his bed, and he’s glaring unfairly at Porco with lidded eyes. “Seriously.”

Reiner would be on his side, surely. “Pieck’s dropped a _hairpin_ , supposedly.”

“And that’s what you’re yelling about?”

Apparently not. “I’m not yelling-”

“I’m trying to sleep. _Pieck_ isn’t making any noise. _You_ are.” Reiner turns back over, and he yanks his blanket over to cover more of his body. “If it’s bothering you so much then go for a walk. Come back when I’m not here.”

Well, that’s convenient, because Porco was sure Pieck was doing this deliberately and merely to annoy him.

Deliberately...

And now, he has a plan.

“Fine.” Pieck turns about at his capitulation, search stopping momentarily. “I will.”

“Good.” Reiner groans against his pillow, and Porco takes his leave.

He takes a few vexed steps to the door, throws it open, and then swings it closed behind him.

And then, with a more delicate tone, he steps slightly to the side and holds himself still, a hand back to the doorknob and ready to break it open at any moment. All he needs is a minute, and Porco would catch Pieck conveniently done with her search - just as he had left.

It was brilliant.

…

And tedious.

He didn’t need to wait a whole minute, exactly. Thirty seconds would do.

Although, it only takes him about twenty to leave the barracks.

And only ten to reach the stairs of this floor.

Which has probably already passed.

…

Alright, enough waiting!

Porco crashes the doorknob unlocked, and then drives the door open with more force than required and with most of his body behind it.

It swings open loudly, crashing against the wall, and Porco finds Pieck…

...still on all fours, head turned about to face him with a knowing smirk to her lips.

What?

“What the hell are you doing?!” Reiner sits up abruptly, now startled and furious under the crash. “What was that?!”

“Uh-” Porco doesn’t know how it had all gone so wrong.

“I’m trying to sleep!”

Pieck still smirks at him, with those lidded eyes that stare up at him from so low down-

Oh.

She was low down enough to see under the door, wasn’t she?

He hadn’t stepped completely out the way of the door, had he?

She must have seen his foot.

And of course she was smart enough to suspect he would try something like that.

Curses.

“Porco!”

“Whatever!” He throws a dismissive gesture at Reiner, and turns about on a heel to leave again because he really needs that walk now. “It doesn’t matter!”

He swings the door closed again all the same, loud enough to miss the pejorative Reiner throws his way, and storms down the corridor to find the stairs.

It takes him less than ten.

* * *

“Pock.”

A tap.

“Pock.”

A kick.

“Pock!”

“What?”

Porco keeps his eyes closed, knowing the glare of the sun is right above him as he lays in its wake with the growing heat of a tan washed across his face.

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

The grass beneath him is cool and soft, and the sun is heavenly. “Not right now.” And the subtle birdsong in the background is an upgrade from the whistling Reiner does in his sleep.

Pieck huffs, away and over him, and then her skirt creases with a brush of fabric, and the grass beside him crumples under her knees as she lowers herself down.

Porco hopes she’ll sit down and keep to herself for a while, but she always has her own ideas and then the heat of the sun across his midriff ceases and turns to the cool of shade.

And then it’s met with the weight of a body.

“Pieck.”

She stretches across him, and then more grass, this time to his right, crumples under her arms. “Hm?”

“Get off me.”

“Nope.” She accentuates the last syllable like she does with his nickname.

Porco cranes his neck forward, and as he feels the sun’s glare pass over his head he opens his eyes warily.

And of course that certain part of her is in his direct line of sight. He doesn’t understand how it… through her skirt...

Porco winces under the subtle blush in his chest, and turns to face her properly instead.

She’s smirking again, head tucked into her arms, tilted towards him, and raven bangs decorate her knowing, lidded eyes.

“Hm?”

Porco takes a deep breath through his nose, a full wash of the scent of the freshly-cut grass. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

“Because you won’t get food with me.”

His head falls back, crumpling yet more grass and returning him to closed eyes and warm skin. “Not that.”

“What?”

“Not our ensemble.”

Pieck sighs, and nuzzles herself back into her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Me neither.” Porco doesn’t want to fall into having to admit what he’s thinking. He changes direction. “Did you find your hairpin in the end?”

“Yup.”

“You got it with you?”

Pieck shifts slightly, and a hand slips inside a pocket of her cardigan which brushes against his uniform shirt.

And then it pulls away, and as Porco cranes his neck and opens his eyes again, he finds Pieck holding a small, glistening piece of brass with that same smug smile.

“Good.” His head crashes to the grass with more than a crumple. “Good.”

So, there was a hairpin after all.

“Did I do that on purpose, too?”

“You tell me.”

Smart rebuttal, Porco.

“Well, I did.” Not a smart rebuttal. “Reiner was sleeping, so he wouldn’t know.” Porco bolts up as far as he can manage, and finds her smug again. “And you’d never tell this to anyone - not that they’d believe you, anyway.”

“What…”

“Oh, and I can tell when it’s you coming up the stairs.” An amused sigh leaves her. “You march up them a certain way.”

“And, uh-"

“I have eyes and a brain, Pock.” She’s nuzzled back into her arms. “They figure things out.”

Porco doesn’t think it’s the sun on his cheeks anymore.

He swallows through the tightness in his throat. “Can we go get some food?”

That finally gets her to move, and she’s smiling again. “Okay.”


End file.
